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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351916">Where The Golden Tulips Grow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango'>JackyJango</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Love Shack By The Ocean [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Charles Xavier Needs a Hug, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Lehnsherr is a Sweetheart, Fluff and Angst, Genosha, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-X-Men: Dark Phoenix (2019), Protective Erik Lehnsherr, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:06:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,712</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29351916</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik unfolds his hands from his back to reveal a bouquet of yellow tulips. There are a dozen of them at least, with leaves peeking out from underneath and the base of the stalks smeared in mud. Hand-picked, Charles realises. </p>
<p>'For you,' Erik says, as he hands over the bouquet to Charles and crouches to press a kiss to his forehead. 'I hope you slept well.'</p>
<p>OR Charles and Erik coming to terms with their feelings in Genosha.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Love Shack By The Ocean [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182008</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Cherik Challenge 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where The Golden Tulips Grow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you <a href="https://hirami.tumblr.com/">hirami</a> for running and organising the cherik challenge! :D</p>
<p>Thank to the amazing the <a href="https://insertmeaningfulusername.tumblr.com/">Steph</a> for looking at this fic through the microscope for me! You're awesome babe! &lt;3</p>
<p>*wipes brow* This fic took forever and a lot from me to complete.<br/>Oh, how stupid was I to think that it'll end up in 1K works when I started writing it.</p>
<p>Anayways, this is the closure I was craving for myself and the stupid boys which the movies didn't cover.<br/>So I hope you guys enjoy it!<br/>Cheers! :D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>           The impending winter makes the early mornings and late nights in Genosha uncharacteristically cold for an island in flirting distance from the equator. Three months into his stay in Genosha, Charles has been giving more and more into the urge of sleeping in, of burying himself into the warmth of the bed until the sun is stronger in the sky. It's partly fuelled by the fact that Charles has nothing to wake up to- no classes to be started on time, no lesson plans or timetables that need to be looked over, no students or staff looking for him. Charles breaks himself from that line of thought before it gets the better of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun is bright in the sky when he finally manages to pull himself out of the tangle of blankets. The light is still tender-- nowhere near the blazing intensity it reaches at noon-- as it wrestles with the curtains for admission into the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other side of the bed is empty and cold. Erik spends the early mornings with his comrades at the community gym, where he often practices with a bunch of teenagers, helping them strengthen their powers. Charles has at least an hour before Erik returns with breakfast. He almost smiles at how mundane and boring it all is, resembling the fantasies of his younger self.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He languidly takes his time getting ready while a kettle of tea boils on the stove. It's nowhere near the brand of Earl Grey he prefers or is used to, but the flavour is earthy and strong, a local produce from the surrounding farms. Given time-- which he has in abundance now-- Charles could develop a taste for it. If Erik-- who wrinkled his nose whenever Charles offered him the beverage-- could take up to drinking it, Charles certainly could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles is reading a book that he left by his bedside the previous night when Erik floats in through the balcony. Sometimes Charles wonders if Erik has to be dramatic even as he enters a space, but Charles probably shouldn't be the one to complain considering the effect it has on him. It kindles a fire in him, a fire that starts in his heart and travels south. The same fire is fuelled further by the sight of Erik in a grey Hanley, black cargos and combat boots. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Good morning,' Erik says, and his face softens the instant his eyes fall on Charles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Good morning,' Charles replies, self-conscious. A flush colours his cheeks. Erik has that effect on him these days. It has become almost impossible for Charles to be in the same room as Erik and not fluster, or stammer, or shrink under Erik's intense gaze. He doesn't know what's gotten into him. He's probably staring at Erik, so Charles clears his throat and wheels towards the stove. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Sure,' Erik answers behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Charles turns towards Erik after putting the kettle on the stove to re-heat, Erik is still standing near the balcony with both his hands tucked behind his back, gaze fixed on Charles and something bright twinkling in his eyes-- just like it'd been in Paris.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The itch to go chasing after Erik's thoughts resurfaces, but Charles buries it down. Erik hasn't told him to stay out of his head, but he hasn't invited him in either. 'What? Is something on my face?' Charles asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A smile forms on Erik's lips, and without breaking eye contact, he crosses the distance between them in two quick strides. Erik unfolds his hands from his back to reveal a bouquet of yellow tulips. There are a dozen of them at least, with leaves peeking out from underneath and the base of the stalks smeared in mud. Hand-picked, Charles realises. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'For you,' Erik says, as he hands over the bouquet to Charles and crouches to press a kiss to his forehead. 'I hope you slept well.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fire in Charles' chest flares, full-fledged, and threatens to unsettle the rhythm of his heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'What are these?' Charles asks dumbly, staring at the dew drops that wobble on the petals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's Erik's turn to chuckle. 'Those are flowers, Charles,' he says as he walks to the stove and pours the tea into a mug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Any other time Charles would have rolled his eyes, but now, he can't look away from what's in his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What does it mean? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>, whatever this is between them, is still undefined, still elusive. They live under the same roof, eat together and play chess. They share the same bed, but more to steal each other's warmth than anything else. Erik kisses him on the forehead every now and then-- and even when he does, his kisses are chaste and unsuggestive. Charles doesn't know if they're just friends or something more. More than once he's had the itch to go rummaging around Erik's mind searching for images of himself. To see if Erik still holds memories of him close to his heart- memories of their younger selves giving themselves to something dangerous, something beyond either of their controls. Memories that had tortured and tormented Charles on lonely nights. Back then, they had been young, hot-headed and reckless, and their couplings even more so. But now, what if Charles finds that Erik's actions are obligatory instead? What if Erik opened his house to an old friend who lost his family and everything he cared for out of utter pity? What if Charles finds that Erik doesn't love him the way Charles always did? He doesn't think he could survive that. He doesn't think he could survive losing anyone else. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'I can see that, Erik,' Charles says, voice bypassing a lump in his throat, 'I didn't know that floriculture was one of your hobbies.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'It isn't.' Erik shrugs casually. He walks to the bed and sits on the edge. 'Camilla stopped me on my walk back to invite me to her nephew's birthday party this evening. She also offered me to take anything from her farm, and I took these.' Erik tips his chin towards the flowers held tightly in Charles' grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla. Ah! Charles remembers her less for her powers to communicate with plants and more for her obsession with 'Magneto'.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Her invitation is extended to you, of course,' Erik continues. 'We can go if you'd like. Or we could stay in and finish the game we had started. Up to you.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles almost suggests staying in, because Erik's company and chess sound lovely when compared to dealing with a dozen minds who are wary of a new presence at their beloved leader's side. He looks down at the velvet of the yellow petals. Charles can't hide forever, he has to face the world one day or another. Besides, after being cooped up in their warm nest for two weeks, an evening out sounds enticing. 'I don't mind. I could use some fresh air.'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles exhales slowly as Erik smiles and leaves to shower. He huddles the flowers close to his chest even as flakes of mud dirty his trousers and shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cleaning the mud from the flowers, Charles puts the tulips in a water pitcher-- there aren’t any vases lying around and Charles makes a note to buy a few from the local market-- and places it on the bedside stand. On </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>side of </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed. Butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach somewhere between 'his side' and 'their' bed, and leave him jittery for the rest of the afternoon. He refocuses on finishing the book he’d been in the middle of reading to shake off the feeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles has met with a few of Erik’s people when he’d ventured out with Erik to the market and on a few other occasions, but going to a gathering with Erik feels more formal; like he’s Erik’s plus one. Like he's something more than just a friend. That thought alone almost renders him witless and intensifies the fluttering in his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he realises, smiling to himself. The warmth that had sprouted in his heart ever since Erik brought him flowers that morning is hope. Hope that even after all these years, after what he's been through-- gained and lost, and after what Erik himself has been through, there's still hope for a future. A future for the two of them together. Funny, how even after everything, hope still prevails, how it still festers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With most of his time either spent at home or strolling through the markets, Charles has stuck to wearing t-shirts and Erik's sweatshirts. The weather hasn’t been helpful either. So it feels good to dress up for a change. Charles picks out a light blue dress shirt and a pair of soft, grey slacks from his trunk. Looking at himself in the mirror, he straightens his collar and smooths his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken a while, but Charles’ hair had grown back after that fateful day in Cairo. It hadn’t been as thick as it once was, but it had grown back, nonetheless. Charles had weighed in his options then. He had gotten used to the bald image of himself over time-- it had earned him a few compliments as well. With all the work and stress that had come with re-building the school, establishing the X-Men and the hours spent in Cerebro, Charles simply hadn’t had the time or energy to maintain and style a headful of hair. So he had reverted to shaving it again. Now, in Genosha, with none of… </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles’ hair has grown enough to curl around his ears and nape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Erik making almost the entire island wheelchair accessible, Charles doesn’t struggle anymore to maneuver his chair, resulting in the loss of some of his muscle mass. He doesn’t fill out his shirt like he used to. His cheeks are also fuller now, thanks to Erik making it his personal mission to ensure that Charles eats three full meals a day. The dark circles under his eyes, however, are a different story altogether.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes Charles a couple of minutes to realise that he’s fussing with his looks like he would have when he was twenty. Flushing, he wheels away from the mirror, but the flush doesn’t abate when Erik chooses the very moment to float into their home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Their home!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik doesn’t change from his ensemble of black t-shirt, black cargos and black boots, so it takes him a grand total of five minutes to get ready. Almost as an afterthought, he pulls out a black jacket from the rack and pulls it on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Ready?’ he asks, turning to Charles. There’s a look in Erik’s eyes, an intensity that Charles ends up being the subject of. He shivers under the gaze and glances away to look at the flowers beside the bed, and nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun is still pouring in tender beams as they make their way to the community gathering area where the celebration is to take place. The evening air is crisp, but it’ll no doubt get cold as the night creeps in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gathering area is a small, open field with fairy lights strung up haphazardly, lighting the area in patches. There’s a raised wooden dais on one end of the field where children of various ages are playing with a handful of balloons. The adults are scattered throughout, grouping around the benches lined towards the periphery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few heads whip in their direction and a murmur begins to rise as they enter, but Erik ignores all of that as he directs Charles towards the back and away from the crowd. Charles recognises a few faces now and again as they pass, but otherwise, he doesn’t know many of the people who have gathered here. He’s also pulled his shields up all the way, because he doesn’t want to spend the evening with the wariness of Erik's comrades towards their leader’s new ‘friend’ battering against his mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun has gone down below the horizon now, streaking the inky blue sky in rich purple. They sit on a bench, lighted by the faint light of dusk and the sky overhead. The wind, too, has picked up speed, sending chills down Charles' spine. It makes him regret not carrying a blanket with him for his legs. But after not stepping out of their home for almost two weeks, the air feels good on his face. It's a lovely evening to be out, Charles realises, and decides to make the most of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik is looking at him again, like he had earlier in the day, his gaze intense and burning. The light of the dusk dances in his eyes and renders him in a rosy hue. Charles shivers this time, and it has nothing to do with the rapidly cooling breeze. The fluttering in his chest intensifies, like a caged bird ready to take flight and soar into the wide sky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So lost in Erik's gaze is he that he almost jumps a foot in the air when a voice asks beside him, 'Drinks, gentlemen?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles turns to the voice to find a tall girl dressed in black leather, with a bunch of green tentacles in the place of each arm and an eye patch against her right eye. The ends of each of her tentacles is curled around what appears to be a can of beer, locally produced. She flaunts a couple of cans in front of them as if to tempt them into accepting it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'Charles?' Erik asks, tipping his chin towards the cans, 'would you like any?'</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment Charles is tempted to accept a can and drain the cool liquid down his throat just to calm the buzz of his nervous mind. The urge, however, wanes on its own before it fully forms. He's given up on alcohol in the months he'd been in Genosha, and he isn’t going to slide down that slippery slope again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, the contents of a bottle were always a refuge for Charles when the loneliness of his heart had taken over him. He'd begun drinking to fill the gaping hole in his chest-- a hole which fit snugly around Raven and a school full of students and Erik. A hole which he believed would heal if Raven returned and the school started full-fledged. Only, it hadn’t. And no matter how much fine scotch he poured over his aching heart, it hadn’t filled the loss carved out by loneliness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn't need alcohol now, not when Erik's regarding him warmly, his gaze just as heady and addictive. And not for the first time, Charles wonders whether he'd been drinking all those years because he couldn't bear losing everything he’d worked for or just because he couldn't bear losing Erik. Just like how his mother had drunk herself into a stupor after his father passed away. Maybe he's his mother's son in more ways than one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>'No, thank you,' Charles declines with a gentle smile. And when the girl turns to Erik, he does the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why? </span>
  </em>
  <span>The question is ready at the tip of Charles' tongue, but he bites down on it. Did Erik refuse just in a bid to keep Charles company or is it something more?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl shrugs and leaves. 'Don't be late for training tomorrow, Callisto,' Erik calls after her retreating form. She salutes him with a can without turning back and Erik smiles easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Do you do this often?’ Charles asks, because Erik looks like he's truly enjoying himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Do what?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘This,’ Charles says, gesturing around them. ‘Gatherings, birthday parties, weddings…’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik chuckles self-deprecatingly. ‘You know how I feel about these things, Charles. I’ve never been good with people.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Charles’ turn to chuckle now. Some things never change and Charles finds more comfort in that than he wants to. ‘Then what made you accept the invite?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Well...’ Erik begins only to be interrupted by an excited ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Magneto!</span>
  </em>
  <span>’ They both turn towards the source of the voice, who happens to be a woman with dark brown curls and blue eyes dragging along an unenthusiastic boy by the arm. Camilla, Charles realises with no small amount of disappointment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I didn’t think you’d really come,’ Camilla says, coming to a stop in front of their bench. ‘I most definitely didn’t believe Red Lotus when he said you were here.’ A few paces behind her, Red Lotus stands with his hands tucked behind his back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Camilla leans into Erik’s space as she speaks excitedly. The joy and lust that blooms in her mind upon seeing Erik slams against Charles’ shields. Charles flinches against them and strengthens his shields.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘You might have met my friend, Charles,’ Erik says, pointing towards him and cutting her excited banter short. Camilla’s broad smile fades as she turns towards Charles and greets him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘This is my nephew, the Birthday Boy. He’s turning eight today.’ Camilla pulls the boy-- who was content to hide behind her-- forward. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The boy waves at them sheepishly and ducks his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Charles,’ Erik says. Charles nods and lifts the book he had carried along with him and beckons the boy forward with a gentle smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In true Erik style, he had left the intricacies of gifting upon Charles, who had to make a quick visit that afternoon to the local market. Charles hadn’t had a clue as to how old the boy was and had roamed under the canopies for a generic gift. That was until his eyes had fallen on a worn out copy of ‘The Tale of Two Cities’. Charles had smiled to himself. It was Kitty’s favourite book to read, and his favourite book to read to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘What’s your name?’ Charles asks softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Oliver,’ the boy answers shyly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles smiles and hands the book covered in a brown paper to the boy, who on receiving it mutters a thank you and bolts in the direction of the podium, where a bunch of kids are playing with balloons. Their shrieks of laughter bring a small smile to Charles’ face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d had a birthday party just like this one in the Mansion when Kitty had turned eight. She’d thrown a fit over not having enough balloons for the party until Peter and Kurt spent an entire afternoon filling every floor in the mansion with balloons. Charles wasn’t there for her birthday when she had turned ten two years later-- he was in the middle of a week-long UN peace summit. She had refused to cut the cake without Charles, and had apparently thrown such a massive tantrum that Kurt had popped up in the middle of a conference to whisk Charles back to the Mansion. Kitty had run up to him as soon as he’d appeared and hadn’t let go until Charles had pulled her into his lap, kissed her hair and wiped her tears. The memory brings a woeful smile to his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles misses her. He misses Jubilee and her bountiful energy. He misses Bishop, who’d come crawling into Charles’ lap with tears streaming down his face after a nightmare, covering Charles’ shirt in snot. He misses reading Jean a bedtime story, her sleepy mind hanging on his every word. Charles misses his children. So much so that it manifests itself into a physical pain somewhere between his stomach and chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He misses Raven-- even when all they seemed to do in the end was bicker and fight. If he closes his eyes even now, he can clearly see a blue girl standing in the kitchen smiling brightly at him. That memory alone quickens Charles’ breath sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The telepath in Charles knows that he’d be sucked into the whirlpool of guilt and pain swirling viciously in his mind if he followed the tail end of such thoughts; a whirlpool so strong that he may never emerge from it. That’s one of the many reasons he has kept thoughts and memories of his children and the Mansion at bay after coming to Genosha. Caution, however, doesn't stop the memories from flooding his mind. Memories of Raven and his children, made and accumulated over a period of thirty years. Thirty years of raising them, moulding them and loving them. That was all he knew, and they were all he had- his only family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, how he misses them. If only he could go back for a moment-- just a moment-- back to the Mansion to see how the kids are doing- to see if Ororo is eating her food on time, to see if Sunspot has gained better control over his powers, to see if Illyana is brushing her teeth before bed. He can’t though, no matter how badly he wants to. How did he become an unwelcome guest in his own home-- or what was once his home?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles can admit that he’s made unsavoury choices when it came to his children. The intentions behind all his actions, however, were only to protect them, not to control or manipulate, or, god forbid, endanger them. He’d never in a million years wanted to bring harm to his children-- even if it were to save his life, let alone to propagate his own political agenda. How could he explain to Raven that he’d discouraged her from displaying her mutation because he didn’t want her to experience the prejudice that Charles had experienced for his telepathy? How could he explain to Jean that he’d hid the existence of her father only to save her from the pain of having her own parent calling her a freak, just like Charles’ mother had? How could he explain to Hank that he too knew what being left behind felt like (Thirty years ago, Charles, too, had been left behind on a beach in Cuba)? How could Charles tell the children that whatever he did was only to ensure that they didn’t have a loveless childhood- to ensure that they had a family around to love and care for them, to ensure society accepted and celebrated them for their powers, to ensure that they were never alone? He’d only done whatever he did so that none of his children had to go through what he had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It matters little what he wants or doesn’t now-- Hank and Scott blame him for Raven’s and Jean’s deaths, and Raven and Jean are… not here anymore. The resolve to steer clear of the past cracks like thin ice under the rising sun. The short breaths that leave his mouth tremble against the cold air. Charles feels lightheaded from the influx of emotions brewing and churning in his head and the strain of maintaining his shields against the birthday crowd. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly the effort it takes to maintain a calm facade becomes too much and Charles begins to panic. All he wants to do now is hide his face in the crook of Erik’s neck and cry until his eyes are drained bare in the safety of their home. Swallowing forcefully and wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks, Charles turns to Erik, only to find an empty spot on the bench opposite to him. The panic intensifies in Charles’ chest, and he frantically looks around for Erik. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles finds him a few paces standing behind the bench, surrounded on either side by Camilla and Red Lotus. The former has a hand on Erik’s forearm, saying something with palpable excitement while Erik listens to her with a genuine smile on his face. Charles’ stomach twists. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s when it hits him. Ah, that’s why Erik has accepted Camilla’s invitation- because he is interested in her. How could he have missed the fact that she looks like Erik’s late wife, Magda? With blue eyes, brown hair and red lips, Camilla is exactly Erik’s type. Of course, Erik would return her interest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels like a fool now for thinking that there was something rekindling between Erik and him. Naive and stupid- that’s what Charles is for thinking that Erik and him could have a future here in Genosha that transcended beyond friendship. He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>hoped</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hoped! Charles’ eyes burn with embarrassment and tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles had taken Erik in into his home when he was all alone, and Erik had wanted to return the favour by taking Charles in when he walked out of his home. That’s what Erik had told him in Paris, that he’d wanted to return the favour. How dense could Charles have been for not seeing that Erik had invited him into his home and kept his company out of sheer pity and a misguided sense of obligation? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rejection from all ends pierces like a dagger into the heart, spilling thick blood into Charles’ lungs. Panic comes clawing at his mind with vicious talons, and breathing becomes difficult. It’s an excruciating kind of torture to watch Erik smile fondly at Camilla like he’d done at Charles that very morning. If Charles hadn’t already been sitting in a chair, he’d have been crushed to the ground by the weight of his roaring mind. The same chair, however, makes it difficult for him to maneuver around the cluster of benches and slink away into the cold night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The warmth that had been building in his chest and stomach since morning has now manifested into a fierce fire, potent enough to burn him from the inside out. It propels Charles into wheeling his chair faster along the cobbled paths in the direction of their home— no! Erik’s home. Funny, how that word has soured in his mind in a matter of hours. Charles never should have come here, he never should have accepted Erik’s invitation and followed him to Genosha. Maybe rejection serves him right for being blinded by love yet again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles should have disappeared into a corner of the world which Erik couldn’t reach. Maybe that’s what he should be doing the next day’s morning- slip out of Genosha before sunrise. But all he can do now is wheel himself into the shack and park his chair in the dark room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pale moonlight peeking in through the sheer curtains lights the meagre space dimly, just enough to silhouette the low furniture and the narrow bed. In the sharp silence of the dark, Charles’ sobs are an ugly sound. Doubt and self-loathing had always come easily to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is he really so worthless that his own mother would despise him? Is he so inadequate that his own sister would accuse him? Is he so unlovable that his best friend and the man he’s loved all his life won’t love him back? Is he really such a monster that his own children would hate him? He really must be. Why else would every person he ever loved leave him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, Charles is ten all over again, orphaned by the death of a father and neglected by an inebriated mother- utterly and truly alone. A new wave of tears flows out of his eyes in the light of that realisation, and this time, Charles doesn’t try to stop it. He’d held back his tears at Raven’s funeral because he wanted to be strong for his children. Here and now, there’s no one to look up to him, no one to respect him, or no one to love him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time slows to a crawl as Charles shivers in the dark, curling in on himself against the cold air that wafts through the curtains. He doesn’t know how much time has passed since he returned, it could be hours or mere minutes. It’s only a matter of seconds, however, before a silhouette floats in through the balcony. Even in such a state, guessing who it is isn’t all that difficult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘You could have told me if you wanted to come back home,’ Erik says, his face engulfed by darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘What are you doing here? Go back to the party,’ Charles grit through his teeth, surprising himself with the force of his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik must have been surprised, too, for he stops in his tracks. The silence scratches taut between them, and just when it is on the verge of snapping, Erik asks, ‘Are you all right?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feigning a calm he doesn’t feel one bit, Charles says, ‘Yes. Absolutely fine. What are you doing here? Isn’t there someone waiting for you at the party?’ It’s a miracle by all counts that his voice remains steady.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something in Charles’ tone must have given him away, for instead of rising to the bait, Erik turns on the switches with his powers, dousing the small space in light. It leaves Charles with very little time to wipe away the tears or school his features to resemble any form of normalcy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik’s eyes widen the moment it lands on Charles’ face and his stubbled jaw clenches tightly. He must look a mess with his blotchy cheeks and bloodshot eyes, curled in on himself. He must look fragile and broken. Charles winces and looks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just that morning they had been in a similar predicament, Erik holding out a fresh bouquet of tulips while Charles' heart had buoyed on hope. And here they are again, Erik with pity in his eyes and Charles its disinclined recipient.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik takes a step towards him. ‘Charles-‘</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Don’t!‘ Charles snaps. ‘Don’t…’ Don’t what? Don’t give me hope again? Don’t break my heart? Don’t leave me again? He doesn’t know. Most importantly, it doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The chills tingle through Charles’ limbs again, and the tears form afresh in his eyes. Hiccups and the sobs are ready at the base of his throat to spill out. Swallowing, Charles says, shakily, ‘Don’t… pity me.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The end of Charles’ words, however, is swallowed by a sob. It opens the floodgates for a stream of tears that embark to etch new tracks on his face. The fire in his heart has been put out, and without it, there’s nothing to counter the tremors that hug his frame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Erik he once knew would have crumpled all the metal in the room or punched the wall in such a scenario. But the Erik in front of him now curses under his breath, picks up a blanket from the foot of the bed and despite Charles’ protests, crouches in front of him. Like coaxing a baby into eating its food, Erik says, softly, ‘You’re shaking, Charles. Let’s get you warm, all right? We can talk later.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles shouldn’t agree to it. Instead, he should stand steadfast on his resolution of sleeping on the hard bench for the night, packing his meagre belongings as soon as the sun rises and taking the first ship out of Genosha. But his resolutions, idealism, morals, even his treacherous heart, never stood a chance winning against Erik. They never did, and Charles doubts they ever will. So he nods weakly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps if his pride were still intact, Charles would have protested when Erik covers him with the blanket and picks him up from his chair and carries him over to the bed. But with his pride in tatters along with his heart, all Charles can do is loop his arms around Erik’s neck and lean against his body for heat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As though handling glass, Erik gently deposits Charles in the centre of the narrow bed and drapes the blanket around his legs to form a cocoon of warmth around them-- warmth Charles doesn’t feel. He drapes himself over Charles-- close enough to form a barrier between him and the chilly breeze but not close enough to obscure his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is a bad idea; almost as bad as falling for Erik all those years ago, and falling into bed with him not much later. Erik doesn’t want him. Erik likes him as an old friend and nothing else. For all that knowledge, however, Charles can’t help hiding his face against Erik’s neck as Erik rubs his broad palms up and down Charles’ arms and shoulders. This is like every other night he’s spent in Genosha, Charles tries to convince himself; this is like any other night where they gravitate towards each other for warmth. Nothing more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Breathe with me,’ Erik says, and Charles closes his eyes and inhales the scent of Erik and lets it out slowly. In and out. In and out. In and out. In sync with Erik’s breathing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, the chills abate and his mind is no more fraying at the edges. It startles Charles how much he needs Erik to ground him. No amount of denial now can mask the fact that Charles needs Erik. And if he’s being honest with himself, Charles has never stopped needing him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik leans back and wipes a stray tear from Charles’ cheek with a gentle thumb. ‘Tell me, Charles,’ he says with an indecipherable expression in his eyes, ‘were you pitying me when you held me during my numerous nightmares?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘No,’ Charles says without hesitation, ignoring the hoarseness of his voice. He never pitied Erik; not for one moment. Whatever Charles did back then, he didn't do it out of pity. He did it out of love-- it doesn’t matter why he did what he did back then. It’s all in the past.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Then why would you think that I am pitying you when this is no different?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Because you said so yourself in Paris,’ Charles says more harshly than he intends to. ‘That you wanted to return the favour. You took me in only because you wanted to return the favour.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Were you pitying me when you saved my life all those years ago? Was it out of pity that you took me into your house and helped me hone my powers?’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘No, of course not.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik smiles, amused, and the nerve of the man to do that. ‘You’re the shittiest telepath I have ever met, you know.’ Before Charles can protest, Erik gently knocks his forehead against Charles’ and says, ‘Read my mind, Charles.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles blinks in surprise, and the motion causes the residual moisture to trickle out of his eyes. ‘But you said-’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Read.’ Erik emphasises by bringing both of Charles’ hands to rest on the back of his temples. ‘I don’t have a helmet on. Read my mind.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being able to delve into another mind without restraints after years of picking up only surface thoughts is like quenching a thirst by diving into deep waters after surviving on paltry sips. Especially a mind like Erik’s, which Charles has always had a weakness for. So Charles dives right in, headless of the consequences. Headless of the fact that he might be separated from that very mind come morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without the finesse he usually possesses-- thanks to the erratic thumping of his heart-- Charles crashes headfirst into the tangle of Erik’s thoughts and emotions. Erik’s mind had always shone like the sun to Charles- bright, beautiful and magnetic. Fierce and brash at the surface and clean and organised at the core, webbed with a clean and organised network of memories that rivals any star map. It’s an enigma and an open book at the same time. The years must have mellowed Erik- now, his mind doesn’t spit fire at Charles’ presence, the flares don’t threaten to burn Charles as brashly as they once used to. Now, it draws him in deep into its core with an accuracy and determination that astounds Charles. Now, Erik’s mind almost feels… serene.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once inside, Charles is too impatient to navigate the intricate network of Erik’s bright memories tinted with Charles’ presence, so he reaches out for the nearest memory with no rhythm or rhyme. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though Charles remembers this memory vividly, now he gets to experience it through Erik’s eyes all over again. It’s the first time Erik kissed Charles while they sat on a grassy patch behind the mansion as the sun bathed them in gold. He feels Erik’s emotions as he kisses Charles into the lawn, a mix of elation and anger burning through his chest- anger for letting his guard slip in front of Charles. Greedy all at once, Charles catches the tail end of the next memory and follows it. This one’s the first time they had sex in a dingy motel amidst a storm. As Erik stretches atop Charles-- his softening member still buried inside the Telepath-- he feels Erik’s fierce resolve to never let the fond smile curling on Charles’ lips leave his face. Charles feels Erik’s disgust at himself for barring Charles from his thoughts, his actions stemming from the fear of losing Charles if the telepath knew that violence filled his mind. A few months later, he feels Erik’s guilt for crippling Charles on the beach in Cuba. Charles can feel that Erik hasn’t forgiven himself till this day for hurting Charles like that. He feels Erik thinking about him when he’d been locked up in the pentagon and his surprise when Charles showed up at the doorway of his cell. The memory of the time when they had sex in an aeroplane cabin en-route to Paris shines brighter than the rest in its periphery. He feels Erik’s resolve to try Charles’ way and lead a life devoid of the fight. He chances upon the memory of Erik being with Magda and thinking that she’s just like Charles- kind and empathetic. She looks like Charles, too, with her brown hair, blue eyes, pale skin and red lips. The next memory skips an entire decade, jumping straight to the day En-Sabah Nur burned the world around them. And when Raven asks if Erik’s ready to protect his family, all he can think of when he closes his eyes is Charles. The next memory Charles catches on to is fairly recent- the day when Erik finds out that Charles has left the mansion and the school to Hank and Scott. He feels surprise and hope bubble up in Erik’s chest as he tells Red Lotus that he’ll be gone for a few days. The hope and nervous anxiety spike in his heart as Erik asks Charles to come back to Genosha with him, and pure joy when Charles nods in agreement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even back on Genosha, all of Erik’s memories that are tinted with Charles’ presence are awash with happiness- Erik’s pride at the nation he’s built, something akin to anxiousness as he shows Charles around the island and waits to hear his thoughts, the pure pride and joy that bubbles up in his chest when Charles says, ‘You’ve built something incredible here, my friend.’ The pride flows two ways- when Charles sees Genosha and when the Genoshans see Charles by his side. He feels Erik’s giddy joy when one of his comrades asks who the man beside him is, and Erik answers fondly, ‘My one and only friend, Dr. Charles Francis Xavier.’ And quite literally, too, for all he’s surrounded by his comrades day in and day out, Erik’s still lonely- a general around his soldiers. He feels Erik’s satisfaction when Charles slowly leaves his marks around the shack- the pile of books on the small desk, the army of pillows Charles insists on having, the various blends of tea that make their way into their kitchenette. The sense of accomplishment flares bright in his mind when he succeeds in getting Charles to eat three full meals a day, and serenity envelops their nightly chess matches. The makings of their own </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With memories of the past come hopes for the future. Charles catches glimpses of the future from Erik’s mind. A future shared with Charles. Of Charles helping him run the country. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles has always been the better diplomat</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Erik thinks. With Charles as the bureaucratic and Erik as the military mastermind. A joint front stronger than the individual parts. Of Charles opening a proper school for the children on the island, with arithmetic, history, sciences and mutant studies for lessons. Of Charles guiding a young pool of mutants with his supreme intellect and his bountiful kindness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik sees the two of them together in other ways, too. Glimpses of him and Erik waking up curled around each other. Late evenings spent having dinner in the sunset and making love up until midnight. Of Erik cradling Charles’ head on his chest as they watch the blanket of stars on the velvet blue sky from their beds on the sandy beach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It takes a few embarrassing moments for Charles to realise the fact that all of Erik’s memories associated with Charles are laced with the same undercurrent of the emotions associated with Erik’s late mother- fierce and bottomless love. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he does realise it, however, Charles shudders physically and tears flow down his cheekbones. He feels drunk on Erik’s feelings; on Erik’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Charles’ mind is cocooned in the warmth of Erik’s thoughts, safe and sound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Charles opened his eyes now, gravity might come crashing down and pull him down to reality from where he’s soaring high in the relative safety of Erik’s mind, so he keeps his eyes closed and clutches his arms around Erik’s shoulders to pull him into a proper embrace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You see, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you by my side</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Erik says into their shared link. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I still want you by my side; in every way there is.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then why didn’t you say anything before? God, Erik, you didn’t have to wait thirty years to tell me this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik’s thoughts turn woeful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I knew that I had fallen for you just a week after meeting you, but I didn’t say anything because I didn’t believe that I’d survive the fight against Shaw. I didn’t want to leave you on the precipice of a possible relationship. And when I did survive the fight against Shaw, well, there were bigger enemies and I didn’t want to tangle you in a life that wouldn’t be my own. I wanted to tell you everything in Paris, but you’d already been through a lot by then, and I wanted to give you time. Besides</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Erik’s mind shies away from their link as he says, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t know if you felt the same about me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Charles blinks his eyes open to the blurry sight of Erik’s face just a hair's width above his. ‘Erik,’ he says, his voice coming out cracked, ‘how could you think that I don’t love you? I’ve been in love with you ever since I jumped into your mind in the Atlantic. I’ve never stopped since then.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seems that’s all the incentive Erik needs to crash their lips’ in a kiss. Charles closes his eyes and moans into it, winding his arms around Erik’s neck and pulling him closer, a wall of warmth over him. Erik winds his arms around Charles’ back and holds him close to his chest. Erik kisses him like that slowly and sweetly, like he intends to make up for the lost years between them in one single kiss. Not that Charles is complaining. He lets Erik take control of the kiss and loops his thoughts with Erik’s and simply basks in the glory of Erik’s mind and Erik’s body surrounding him. They’re both physically and mentally tired for the kiss to lead into anything else, but both of them don’t mind it one bit. Not when Erik breaks their kiss to wipe away Charles’ tears with his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘You still haven’t told me why you fled from the party without telling me,’ Erik says softly when they come back to themselves. ‘And if it’s because of anything I’ve said or done to upset you, then I apolog-’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘No,’ Charles blurts out and bites his lower lip. He doesn’t know how to express the influx of emotions he experienced at the party in words, so he shows them to Erik, glimpses of what and why he felt rather the intensity of his emotions, unable to live through them a second time that night. Those glimpses unfortunately include his little jealousy trip towards Camilla. And that’s what Erik decides to latch on to. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Wait, you think I like Camilla?’ Erik asks, bewildered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘In my defense, you accepted her invite even though you don’t like parties. I didn’t know what else to make of it.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik smiles at him tenderly. ‘Charles, the only reason I wanted to go to that party is because I wanted my people to know you.’ Erik truly means that-- Charles can tell, for the sincerity of his words shine through. Erik had only accepted the invite to the party because he wanted his people to know Charles. He’d been waiting for such an opportunity where he could properly introduce Charles and everyone, and Camilla’s party seemed perfect for that. The flowers that Erik had brought Charles that morning were an attempt at courting him. In fact, there are several such moments speckled throughout the last three months-- Erik bringing home a locally produced tea for Charles, Erik taking time off from his training on a Friday evening to cook them a dinner, Erik bringing back second-hand books that Charles might like to read. Erik has been courting him all this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles swallows thickly at the revelation. ‘Erik,’ he says, swallowing past a lump in his throat, ‘I’m not the same man you once fell in love with.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik pries his hand from under Charles’ back to intertwine his fingers with Charles’. ‘Neither am I, Charles. We’ve both changed from what we once were. Look,’ he says, smiling, ‘I’ve even made my peace with the humans.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As though he hasn’t heard Erik at all, Charles continues, ‘I... I have nightmares frequently. And some nights, I hardly sleep at all.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I know,’ Erik says simply. Charles has lost a count of the times Erik has held him through some of the rougher nights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I am a mess most of the days, and I’m not the easiest person to deal with.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I know.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘There might be days when I’m clingy and needy and insecure.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I know.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Then why?’ Charles asks shakily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Because you’re still my Charles, and that’s enough for me,’ Erik says with such strength and determination that it shakes Charles a little. Erik must have sensed the tremors running through his limbs because he squeezes Charles hand to ground him. ‘I have my fair share of bad days and nightmares, too, Charles. We’ll deal with each day as it comes.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Your comrades may not want me around.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik frowns. ‘Why do I feel like you’re doing everything possible to get away from me?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Because I want this to work, Erik,’ Charles says, ‘If we’re doing this, then we’re doing this properly. I don’t think…’ Charles looks away from Erik. The yellow tulips that Erik has given him that morning sit on their bedside table. They might not be as fresh as they were, but they’re still thriving beautifully. ‘I don’t think I could survive if you left me another time.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Then we’ll do it properly this time,’ Erik says, squeezing Charles’ hand to get his attention. He presses a playful kiss to Charles’ ring finger that’s still entwined with his and says, ‘I’ll even put a ring on it if you want.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A faint blush spreads on Charles’ cheeks. ‘If we’re doing this right, then I don’t think I can stay away from your mind, Erik. Not when…’ Not when he’s trapped with guilt and longing in his own mind. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, though. Not when Erik already knows it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘I didn’t want you in my head before because I didn’t think you might like what you saw, Charles. But I have nothing to hide now.’ Erik nudges his forehead against Charles’. ‘I’m all yours now. Body, heart, mind and soul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles’ heart stutters at Erik’s words and the bright flash of love that sparks between them, and the shudder that runs through his body this time isn’t because of the cold wind. ‘Just like I’m all yours, Erik,’ he says, closing his eyes. ‘Body, heart, mind and soul.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That said, though, there’s still the niggling weariness that’s housed in the back of Charles’ head. What if all of Erik’s dreams and work in building the Mutant Nation come crashing down just because of Charles and the Genoshan’s disapproval of him? Charles isn’t sure of himself these days. He isn’t the leader or teacher he once used to be-- if he truly ever was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Erik,’ he says, rubbing a thumb against Erik’s cheekbone. ‘I don’t think I can be around children once again. I might…’ he swallows thickly, ‘I might do them more harm than good. Whatever I touch breaks these days.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Good,’ Erik says without infliction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Good?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Yes, good.’ Erik smiles softly at him. ‘Which means that I have a lifetime ahead of us to prove you otherwise.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Confident, aren’t you?’ Charles asks ruefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>‘Not confident, Charles. Hopeful.’ Charles’ eyes widen at Erik’s words. His surprise must have effused through their link, for Erik says, more seriously, ‘Hopeful enough for the two of us combined if need be. Nothing you touch breaks, Charles. Everything you touch only heals.’ He turns to press a firm kiss to the centre of Charles’ palm. ‘I’m the living proof of that.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Charles still had the ability to be embarrassed about losing control over himself, he would. But self-control is a moot point when Erik Magnus Lehnsherr is concerned. So he doesn’t stop the tears that spill out of the corners of his eyes and flow freely down his cheeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Body, heart, mind and soul, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Erik had said. Charles won’t hide himself from Erik anymore. He doubts he can even if he tries. Finding his shaky voice again, Charles asks, ‘How are so sure?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Erik leans forward and says against his lips, ‘Because you’re not alone anymore, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Schatz</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You have me now. And as long we’re together, we can overcome anything.’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Erik puts it that way, Charles has no trouble believing him. In fact, he’ll believe anything Erik says now in a heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’ll need you by my side more now than you need me by yours</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles adds through their link. The warmth of Erik’s affections and the warmth of Erik’s body over his is dragging his mind into a blissful haze, away from his exhausted shell. Closing his eyes, Charles loops his arms around Erik's neck and pulls him down on top of him, such that their breaths mingle and their limbs tangle. Caged by Erik from all sides should feel stifling and exposing his heart and soul to Erik must render him vulnerable. Charles waits for the fear that thought brings to come crashing down on his heart and sever the telepathic link flowing freely between them. But it doesn’t. In its place comes serenity, a sense of belonging and a blissful sense of safety. Who knew there would be liberation in surrender?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then I’ll always stay by your side, Schatz</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Erik says, kissing his forehead fondly, and the burst of affection from Erik’s mind is all Charles needs to slip into a deep and dreamless sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Charles wakes up the next day in the early hours of dawn. A few golden beams wrestle with the curtains for admission into the room even though the sun is still low on the horizon. The cold winds ruffle through the rooms as an afterthought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He must have pulled Erik along with him to slumber the previous night, for Erik is still deep asleep beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the night stand beside their bed, the tulips are still thriving. They might have withered a little and lost their freshness since the day before, but they still stand proudly in a pitcher of water after weathering a hot day and a cold night. The drops of dew sprinkled across their velvety petals sparkle and shine under the tender, golden light.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Burrowing some more into Erik’s hold and under the thick blanket, Charles inhales Erik’s scent deeply. He interlocks his fingers with Erik’s and closes his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A warmth bubbles up his chest as Charles begins to fall asleep. He spares a few moments to</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>place that feeling before giving up eventually. It matters little when Erik’s loyal heart beats steadily below his ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Charles’ mind whispers before he falls asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading :D<br/>Please do let me know what you thought of it!</p>
<p>This user also exists as <a href="https://jackyjango.tumblr.com/">JackyJango</a> on Tumblr!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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